


What does 'Viral' Mean?

by darkbluebox



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Canon Compliant, Future Fic, Gen, Humour, Post-Canon, Retirement, and non-tv appropriate language, basically 2k of bickering, sports commentators kevin and neil: the origin story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-27
Updated: 2020-02-27
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:55:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22930597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkbluebox/pseuds/darkbluebox
Summary: Neil thought that his publicity agent had learned better than to leave him unsupervised in front of a microphone of any description, but apparently not. Either that or she considers Kevin to be the supervision, which could be an error of career-ending magnitude.Neil steps in as Kevin's co-host and it goes about as well as expected.
Relationships: Kevin Day & Neil Josten, Kevin Day/Thea Muldani, Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard
Comments: 111
Kudos: 804





	What does 'Viral' Mean?

**Author's Note:**

> Someone made a post on tumblr which roughly inspired this fic and I cannot find it anywhere. I'm so sorry  
> I'll post a credit if I ever find them.  
> Edit: Found it! [Credit to Exycuter for their hilarious tags.](https://darkblueboxs.tumblr.com/post/611210321058742272/deus-ex-knoxina-exycuter-the-real-post-pro-exy)
> 
> Fic requested by theloveliestfool and revolutionary-magician.

“…and as Thea is in Canada leading a conference on women in sports this week, my co-host for today’s match is Exy Olympian and former striker for the Seattle Seals, Neil Josten.” Kevin fails to hide a wince as he announces Neil’s name. There are a few whoops from the audience at the mention of the veteran Exy hero, and Neil hopes his reputation will be enough to tide him through the event. He’s grown used to the attention of stadiums full of people by force of his Exy career, but sitting opposite Kevin with a mic between them and the expectation that he will spend the following hours eloquently dissecting the ins and outs of Seattle’s face-off against the Dallas Dingos is a far cry from what he’s used to. Neil thought that his publicity agent Carol had learned better than to leave him unsupervised in front of a microphone of any description, but apparently not. Either that or she considers Kevin to be the supervision, which could be an error of career-ending magnitude.

Then again, it’s been a while since Neil’s days of furiously rebuking nosey reporters live on-air; maybe he’s about to discover that retirement has mellowed him out.

“It’s a pleasure to be back in Seattle for what I’m sure will be a great start to the season,” Neil says placidly. Apparently, he has retained some of his media training after all.

“A start, it will be. But a great one? I’m sure I don’t have to remind you that the Seals lost by an unprecedented eleven points to the Dingos last season.” Kevin wrinkles his nose. Neil rolls his eyes, making sure that Kevin catches the gesture. He’s well-aware that he’s nobody’s first choice to cover for Thea, but her scheduled replacement is currently sitting in ER with a dislocated shoulder, and Neil has never been great at saying no to Kevin when Exy is involved. He knows he has no chance of imitating Thea’s calm, professional persona nor her and Kevin’s easy back-and-forth, but he’s not going to sit there and be Kevin’s soundboard either.

“True, but with their star striker benched throughout their last game and with several rookies on their defence line, you could hardly have expected them to-!”

“-and here come the players for their warm-up,” Kevin interrupts smoothly. While the crowd cheers on the arriving athletes, Neil takes the pause as an opportunity to flip Kevin off. Kevin makes a choked sound as laughter rolls across the crowd, and points at the replay screens that are playing a live stream of their booth.

Neil almost feels guilty until he notices the puce-like colour Kevin’s face has turned and finds himself choking back a snicker. “So,” Neil continues as the players begin jogging up and down the length of the court. “It sounds like you’ve already placed your bets.”

“Betting on match outcomes while commentating would be very unprofessional.”

“So that’s a yes?”

“Sounds like you’re rooting for your old team. I’m sure you’re aware that impartiality is a vital quality in any sports commentator, Josten.”

Neil rolls his eyes again as pointedly as he can. Only Kevin Day would criticise his co-host live on-air. “Call it a healthy investment in the match’s outcome.”

Kevin snorts derisively at that, and Neil resists the urge to flip him off again. Carol will ensure that any profanity fines ESPN is hit with because of him will come straight out of Neil’s paycheck.

Kevin rattles through a several prepared talking points while the players warm up; shot statistics, playing history, starting players and strategies. Neil is quick to point out when Kevin isn’t doing a player justice – “Yes, Janice had a low shot rate last season, but remember she was recovering from a broken ankle through her last three matches” – and cuts in with a snarky comment whenever Kevin looks set to be going off on a tangent. He hears a lot of laughter from the crowd and assumes that one of the team mascots is doing some sort of routine to rouse them. Every time he interrupts Kevin, Kevin sends him an arch look, as though he can’t decide whether to be irritated by the interruption or grateful for Neil’s input.

“…and with the three minute buzzer sounding, we are counting down the seconds until we get to see how wrong Kevin is about my old team live on-air, so stay with us folks, because it’s going to be a _great_ ,” Neil flicks a pointed look in Kevin’s direction, “ _great_ start to the season.”

Kevin huffs. “You always did have a talent for talking big, Josten.”

“And you always had a talent for being an ass,” Neil laughs. “Glad to see we’ve both found ways to put our skills to use.”

“Neil, you can’t say _ass_ on-air!” Kevin slaps a hand over the mike, but it’s too late.

“You just did.” Neil says, unperturbed. What are they going to do, fire him? This isn’t his job. “You heard it here, folks! Kevin Day swore!”

Kevin puts his head in his hands. “This was a mistake.”

“And I believe, ladies and gentlemen, that the refs have just bolted the doors to the court. Dingos have the first serve, assuming, of course, their offensive dealer can remember how to hold his own racket.”

“That’s uncalled for.”

Neil shrugs. “He broke three ankles, two wrists and ended the Bobcat goalie’s career in his first season. That guy isn’t playing Exy, he’s throwing himself repeatedly at the nearest flat surface to see what or who he can crush against it.”

“…point.” Kevin admits, somewhat guiltily, as the dealer approaches the starting line.

Three minutes in, the Seals score their first point. Neil smiles at Kevin with more teeth than strictly necessary. “ _Great_ game.”

“Screw you, Josten.”

“Watch your fuckin’ mouth, Day, this isn’t HBO.”

Kevin shakes his head at him, but the corner of his mouth twitches.

They spend the first quarter bickering, with occasional interludes of actual sports commentary. Neil knows that nothing he’s saying sounds much like the kinds of commentators he’s used to hearing on television, but it’s entertaining to him at least. Even after all these years, Kevin still has a way of talking to Neil like he’s a toddler throwing a tantrum and Kevin is the long-suffering parent, and if anything, it eggs Neil on.

Kevin doesn’t smirk, exactly, when the Dingos equalize at the beginning of the second quarter, but it’s close.

“Wow, looks like the Dingo’s number seven has finally figured out where the goal is,” Neil says flatly, and it’s Kevin’s turn to roll his eyes.

“I must say, his footwork does remind me of a certain striker I used to play with.”

“His footwork is sloppy as hell.”

“Exactly.”

“Oh, you want to make this personal, Day?” The Seal’s backliners crowd the Dingo striker and the ball tumbles from his racquet. “I’m sure the crowd would love to hear about the-”

“-don’t-”

“-the time you-”

“-Neil-!”

“-bet Andrew a hundred bucks you could score on him blindfolded. And drunk.”

“What? That never happened.” The referee’s whistle blows, calling a foul on the Seal’s backliner.

“I have video evidence. Do you think the fans would like it? Fair warning, you did not stay standing long.” Neil waves his phone at Kevin.

“Stop causing a distraction! We’re meant to be commentating on the match.” Kevin reaches out to snatch Neil’s phone, and his elbow catches the edge of Neil’s mug.

It wobbles on the edge of the desk and tips, pouring lukewarm tea all over Kevin’s lap.

“Shit,” says Kevin, jumping to his feet. “I mean, uh, darn.” Neil cackles. Kevin gives him a black look. “This is your fault.”

“Oh, look Kevin. The Seals just scored again.”

Kevin picks up his own mug. The black look hasn’t left his eyes. His drink sloshes ominously within.

Neil sobers. “You wouldn’t.”

Kevin arches an eyebrow. “Oh?”

Neil tightens his grip on the edge of the table. “Kevin Day, I will call your wife.”

“So? I’ll call your husband.”

Neil sucks a breath in through his teeth. “Shit.”

Kevin pours the coffee on him. It is not pleasant.

The second half is far more entertaining, as both of them, sitting in sticky caffeine concoctions, quickly abandon what remains of their professionalism.

“And with that pass, number eleven proves once and for all that a career in Exy is possible even for those born tragically without any semblance of cognitive thought.”

“An accomplishment that my co-host has been demonstrating unacknowledged for decades.”

“I’m touched.”

They both take a five-minute interlude to cuss out a particularly bad call from one of the referees that puts the Dingo’s offensive dealer on the bench. The ref sends a dirty look in the direction of the commentator’s booth and receives two of equal ferocity in return.

The last quarter starts with both teams sitting at eight points, which doesn’t change for most of the quarter. Neil has to admit that the most satisfying part of his day so far is watching Kevin’s haughty, distanced persona fall apart as Neil goads him into cheering on the Dingos. For every positive comment he makes about a team or player, Neil will trade him a negative one, and vice versa, and together they find a strange balance of insults and praise that carries them through the last quarter. With a minute to go before overtime, a Seal backliner tips the ball from a Dingo’s net and sends it shooting across the court.

“No way, no way, shit, where’s the defence? Where’s the defence?!” Kevin shouts, his grip like a vice around Neil’s arm as he’s swept away by the tension.

“Come on, number eighteen, you beautiful bastard,” Neil says, no longer paying the slightest bit of attention to what his mouth is doing. The ball lands squarely in the net of the Seal’s star striker. She spins in the direction of the goal, rebounds off the wall with less than a second on the clock-

The goal lights up red, and for several seconds the only sounds from the booth are yelling. 

One of the interns delivers a sheet of post-match statistics to slot in alongside Kevin’s prepared post-match talking points, but neither of them are coherent enough to follow them for several minutes. Neil’s pulse is hammering in his neck as his heart tips around with the kind of adrenaline rush he hasn’t felt since-

Well. Since he retired.

He meets Kevin’s eyes across the microphone. Kevin is panting like he just played four quarters himself.

Neil is the first to recover. “Is it always like this?”

Kevin is quiet for a moment. He clears his throat. “It was nice working with you again, Josten.”

“Do you think I got you fired?”

Kevin pops Neil around the back of the head, and the audience laughs.

***

“What does viral mean?”

Carol rolls her eyes in near-perfect synchronicity with Kevin. “It means that someone edited a video titled ‘Day and Josten’s Epic Roast Fest,’ uploaded it to YouTube – do _not_ ask me what YouTube is, Neil, or I swear – and from YouTube it was shared to twitter, where several of your former teammates retweeted it, garnering thousands of likes and shares, followed by reposts to Facebook, Tumblr and so on and so forth. We estimate the compilation received somewhere around 1.2 million hits within a day of posting, and most interestingly, they aren’t all Exy fans. Search results for both your names have spiked along with Seals and Dingos searches, meaning you’ve not only brought this game under the Exy world’s radar but the non-sporting world too.”

“Okay, and?” Neil glances from his agent to Kevin, who’s expression remains unreadable. “That’s fine and all, but why am I here? Did I really get you fired or what?”

Kevin lets out a huff of breath. “Despite your best efforts, no. I’m not fired. The producer isn’t wild about some of the… language we used, but it turns out we got quite a lot of fan-mail. Apparently, we’re hilarious.”

“It helps that you’ve drawn a lot of interest in the teams, which means new fans, which means more money,” adds Carol. “Greasing the wheels, so to speak.”

“What wheels?” says Neil, nonplussed.

Kevin looks to the ceiling like he’s asking it for help. “They’d like us to make a regular segment of it. Not for ESPN, the profanity wouldn’t slide on daytime TV, but they want us to do some livestreams, test the waters, see if we can hold an audience and take it from there.”

Neil opens his mouth to ask what a livestream is, but Kevin sends him a sharp look that convinces him otherwise. “What about your slot with Thea?”

“She’s about to be taking some time off anyway.” Kevin’s cheeks turn a little pink. “Maternity leave.”

Neil short-circuits. “Huh.”

“Most people would say something like ‘congratulations’ now, Neil,” says Carol dryly.

“Congratulations.”

“Thanks.”

“So, what do you think?” Kevin asks. “Ready to make a fool of yourself on a national stage?”

Neil grins. “Can I throw coffee at you every week?”

“And here I thought retirement would soften you,” says Carol. She smiles tiredly at them. “More fool me.”

They shake on it.

***

*Bonus*

_Text from Andrew_ : Did you forget they had cameras on you, or did you mean to give the son of Exy the finger on national television?

_Text from Andrew:_ Sir and King very confused. Can’t figure out where your voice is coming from.

_Text from Andrew:_ If Day kills you, I’m not coming down there to save your ass.

_Text from Andrew:_ Junkies.

**Author's Note:**

> This is literally the fastest I have ever written a fic. I didn't even stop to look up team names or locations, as you can probably tell.
> 
> I don't actually know the rules to Exy and at this point I'm too afraid to ask.jpg
> 
> [Find me screaming about it on tumblr](https://darkblueboxs.tumblr.com) and [twitter.](https://twitter.com/darkblueboxs)


End file.
